


Summer at Farthest

by cwmilton



Category: Emma (2020), Emma (TV 2009), Emma - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M, Secret Relationship, Stolen Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25273564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cwmilton/pseuds/cwmilton
Summary: Selina Suckling, Mrs. Elton's sister, and her husband are visiting Highbury at last in honor of the Crown Inn's first assembly. Augusta is anxious to introduce her sister to all of her friends (and foes) in the village, but will her impressions match those of her sister?
Relationships: George Knightley/Emma Woodhouse
Comments: 36
Kudos: 222





	1. An Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back with another story from a third party's point of view! (Which really is just my excuse for writing another story about Emma and Mr. Knightley sneaking around.) 
> 
> This story fits best into two longish chapters so this first entry serves as just a short introduction and a fun excuse to inhabit Mrs. Elton's perspective. I'll post the first real part of the narrative soon. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! Comments, kudos, questions, or suggestions are always deeply appreciated.

> _“My brother and sister have promised us a visit in the spring, or summer at farthest,” continued Mrs. Elton; “and that will be our time for exploring. While they are with us, we shall explore a great deal, I dare say.”_
> 
> _—Mrs. Elton, Emma, Volume II, Chapter XIV_

My dear Selina, 

I had hoped that you and Mr. Suckling might visit darling Mr. E. and me in our vicarage earlier this season, but perhaps it is good that you delayed as Highbury has become at least moderately interesting in the past month. Of course, now that I am here, the pace of life has picked up quite a bit! As you know, Sister, where I go, excitement must follow. 

We have recently learned that my intimate friend, Jane Fairfax, has been secretly engaged these last months to none other than Frank Churchill! After his aunt passed away, as I wrote you last, we all expected that he would announce his engagement to Miss Woodhouse. The way the pair had behaved on that grim day on Box Hill left little in doubt! But instead, his understanding with Jane has been revealed. They were previously unable to tell anyone out of fear he would be disinherited. Mrs. Radcliff herself could not have written it better!

I, as her dear friend and advisor, was one of the first people Jane told—second only to her aunt and grandmother. I am sure she would have told me sooner, so close as we are, but she must have felt most uncertain their marriage would, in fact, materialize. Indeed, though I am now more disposed to think of Mr. Churchill favorably due to Jane’s admiration for him, his improper flirtation with Miss Woodhouse—so baldly encouraged by her open, country manners—must have left his feelings for Jane much in doubt. Now, however, we are all aware that his attentions to Miss Woodhouse were a mere distraction from his real object, and Miss Woodhouse looks ever more foolish.

Of course my dear Jane would be the one to capture such a handsome, charming young man as Mr. Churchill. It does put me in a bit of a spot though, as you know, and I have written Mrs. Smallridge several letters conveying my deepest apologies and regrets. Jane felt certain that their engagement was over and accepted the position. And now Mrs. Smallridge is left most disappointed by the matter and without alternatives.

On a brighter note, Miss Woodhouse has practically withdrawn from society as of late—out of shame, I’m sure. Mr. E. tells me that whenever he calls on Hartfield to visit my dear old beau, Mr. Woodhouse, Miss Woodhouse is not there. She is always walking about alone!—if you can imagine—as her inferior little companion visits London. Mr. E. said he spotted Miss Woodhouse returning one afternoon from one of her walks, and she looked quite tousled and flushed from being out of doors so long. He might have mistaken her for a farmer’s daughter, he said! 

Dear Knightley, gentlemanly to a fault, seems worried for her. They are, you know, practically family, and he is likely concerned about the damage her shocking behavior will bestow on his nieces and nephews. Mr. E. told me when he last called on Mr. Woodhouse, Knightley stopped by. The poor man had not been sitting five minutes when—upon hearing from Mr. Woodhouse that his daughter was out again, mucking about in the fields—Knightley volunteered to find Miss Woodhouse and deliver her a shawl. I’m sure it was just a ruse, and that once he found her, he took her to task, but I was amused by the image of our dashing Knightley, crossing the fields with a shawl in hand. I had made a note to tease him about it during his next dinner at the vicarage, but he has been so preoccupied with his work as Magistrate, we have barely seen him. It is such a lark to tease him, my dear Selina, as he is so handsome when he blushes. 

I have saved the best news for last, of course. You will never guess! After the success of the ball at the Crown—which I, of course, was quite instrumental in arranging—the owner, a Mr. Stokes, who manages the property with his wife, has decided to hold an assembly this very month on the full moon! I know it has been difficult to tempt Mr. Suckling away from his Maple Grove and his mills, but you must use all of your feminine wiles to do so. It will be such an opportunity for you to meet the entire cast of characters here in Highbury, and, to be plain, the presence of a true lady and gentleman would surely put Miss Woodhouse in her place. I’m sure she thinks herself to be the reigning queen of any ball in Surrey. How you and I would laugh together at her lack of finery! 

Please say you’ll come, my dear Selina. And bring the barouche-landau if you can.

Your loving sister, 

Augusta Elton


	2. An Assembly at the Crown

Selina Suckling knocked against her husband in the carriage the Eltons had recently acquired. Augusta had been most apologetic that the coach was a good deal smaller than the Suckling’s barouche—which surely would have been the most fashionable way to arrive at the assembly—but Selina didn’t mind in the least. So glad was she to see her sister and her lovely home in Surrey, a short cozy ride would not at all dampen her spirits. And indeed, she did not object to being tucked in close to Mr. Suckling who, given his height, had to be practically folded in half to fit inside. When a particularly large bump on the country road nearly threw her into Mr. Suckling’s lap, he did not object either, but instead rewarded her with one of his rare, quiet smiles. Selina knew there were those who thought her husband snobbish, but his reserved nature was, in her mind, one of his best features. He only smiled when he was pleased, only spoke when he had something to say, and only laughed when filled with a particular joy. 

She was especially grateful he had recently assented to this visit. She knew he had not enjoyed the two days of travel required and had harbored concerns about the logistics. Though it was far less comfortable, he had insisted on renting a private coach for the journey so they might leave their own, well-equipped vehicle at Maple Grove for his mother’s use. And Selina had a private suspicion that the funds for the purchase of the carriage they currently occupied had been supplemented by her husband when he saw Phillip in London a few months before.

They were on their way to an assembly ball in Hartfield—the first of its kind for the village. Mr. Stokes, the owner of the local Crown Inn, had witnessed the success of a ball given by a Mr. Weston, one of the best local gentlemen, Selina was made to understand. Augusta would have it known by all that the actual execution of the ball this evening—as well as the one given by Mr. Weston—had been mostly her doing. 

“I am so glad I convinced Mr. Stokes. You must tell me what you think of the decorations, Selina, and the menu as it was all my vision! Although late summer is such an unfashionable time to hold a ball, once must take what one is given here in the country, hm? And the inhabitants here have such a fear of driving during the winter months when the days are short. Is that not true, Mr. E? Why are you staring at the window so anxiously?”

“I am sorry, my dear, but I only wish we were not arriving so late. As the vicar here, I’m expected to shake the hand of every man in attendance. I do not wish my flock to think I am neglectful.”

“Nonsense, my _caro sposo,_ you are a vicar, but you are also a fashionable gentleman. Everyone knows it is not done to arrive before 9:30, is it Selina?” 

“Yes, that is true in Bath, dear sister. But, as you have said, expectations may be different in Highbury.” 

Augusta sat back in her seat looking somewhat chastened. Selina was always forthright with her sister—perhaps the only one in their family who was. Augusta had always been livelier and prettier, and she was beloved by both their father and mother who saw her as key to their family’s success. It was to everyone’s surprise—including Selina’s—that Selina, plain-looking and plain-spoken, had captured the heart of the aloof Mr. Suckling of Maple Grove when he had accompanied his niece to Bath just three seasons ago. 

Indeed, now that Selina was a woman of more-than-usual wealth and property, she found her sister was solicitous of her in a way she had never been previously. Though they had always been loving, Augusta had heard her sister invoke the Suckling surname and estate with surprising frequency when they had visited Bath last winter. Selina felt apprehensive that Augusta had mentioned her sister’s elevated status with similar frequency in Highbury and had given her friends a false impression. In disposition and manner, Selina was quite the opposite of a high-borne society matron—a Bristol girl through and through as she was—but it was likely Augusta had portrayed her as such.

Finally, they arrived at the Crown, and Selina was unsurprised to find that no one else in Highbury had seen the need to arrive fashionably late and that dancing had already begun. Mr. Stokes, acting as the Master of Ceremonies, greeted them upon their arrival.

“Are you not pleased with the arrangement of the lanterns, Mr. Stokes? Does it not highlight the graceful movement of the dancers?”

Mr. Stokes bowed, “Indeed, Mrs. Elton, it does. It was very good of you to think of it.” 

Mr. Suckling then requested that Mr. Stokes kindly show him to the card room, and Mr. Elton dashed off to begin his obligatory rounds. 

Augusta took her sister’s arm and pulled her to the side of the ballroom where they could observe the full set. Selina observed several elegant young ladies and gentlemanly figures who would have not looked at all out of place in Bath or London though perhaps dressed with a little less finery than their acquaintances in town. Based on Augusta’s letters, she had expected the company to be terribly outmoded. The most prevalent sensibility among all the dancers was an almost tangible joy at having the rare opportunity to dance. This general excitement may have made their movements less graceful than what was seen at Almack’s, but Selina was immediately enchanted by the spirit of the room. 

Augusta had been very excited to give her sister the full “who’s who” of Highbury society and was anxious to hear if Selina’s impressions would match the descriptions from her letters. 

“I’m sure they will, dear Selina, as I do have such a way with words.”

Augusta gestured toward the top of the set, “There, you see, Sister, are Mr. Frank Churchill, and my special friend, Jane Fairfax. How unmistakably enamored they are with one another.” 

Mrs. Suckling spotted them immediately as her sister was right, they were clearly besotted. When they turned together, there was a palpable intimacy in their gaze. The lady seemed to be always trying to make her betrothed smile with a quirk of her lips or a raised brow, and indeed, she did not have to try very hard. He practically couldn’t stop grinning at her. But beyond their love for one another, Selina privately thought that Augusta’s letters had been inaccurate.

She, Miss Fairfax, was a much more spirited dancer than Selina would have thought. In Augusta’s letters, Miss Fairfax was always described as demure and elegant. And he, her betrothed, was a bit older and more staid than Mrs. Suckling would have suspected—still very handsome to be sure, but she had been expecting more of a foppish young man based on what she had read of his flirtation with the superior Miss Woodhouse. He did seem to have an open and friendly manner, and it may have been that his affability was misinterpreted. Perhaps the revelation of their engagement had granted _her_ the joy she had previously wanted and _him_ the steadiness necessary to refine his character. They were both fine dancers and their differences in bearing only served to highlight the skill of each. 

Augusta softly poked Selina with her elbow, “And there, next to Jane, you see? That is MIss Woodhouse. Always very much eager to be on display. I don’t know how poor Knightley was caught up in it.” 

The revered Knightley was on the other side of the ballroom and given the movement of the dance, Selina could not see him terribly well. From what she could see of him, she thought he was well-formed—younger looking than she expected for an infamous bachelor—and he seemed to be often looking about to observe what others were doing rather than focusing on his partner. She supposed that this must be a sign of his unease as Augusta had told her he did not often dance. 

Miss Woodhouse was, indeed, beautiful and elegant, but Selina immediately understood why she left Augusta so discomfited. She might have assumed that her dour expression was actually caused by shyness or reservation, but for the fact that Miss Woodhouse was in place at the top of the set! This was inexcusable to Selina. Jane Fairfax was a bride-to-be! She should have the privilege of dancing first. 

As the dance continued, the sisters circled the room, and Augusta introduced Selina to a few oft written-of acquaintances—Mr. Weston, gregarious and good humored, Miss Bates, good-hearted but a bit silly, and the Coles, genteel but not gentility. Finally, the music ended and the attendees applauded. Mrs. Suckling was pleased to see Mr. Churchill escorting Miss Fairfax to the very spot where she and her sister now stood. 

Augusta curtsied, and the pair bowed and curtsied in return. Selina thought it was a rather formal greeting for such dear friends, and she hoped it was not for her benefit. She would not wish for her sister’s friends to think she had _airs_ , though Augusta may have given that impression. Selina had quite a horror of _airs._

“My dear sister,” Augusta began, “Please allow me to introduce you to—”

Selina smiled broadly at the couple, hoping to assure them that—contrary to Augusta’s notions about the Mistress of Maple Grove—she was an easy and welcoming person. 

“Oh please, allow me to greet you both as old friends, I have heard so much of you in my sister’s letters.” The lady looked rather startled at this, and the gentleman, a bit amused. “Augusta—Mrs. Elton—called you out to me earlier. Allow me to congratulate you, sir, most warmly on your engagement,” she said to the gentleman, “And offer you my best wishes,” she said to the lady. “It is all _very_ romantic and clearly you will be made very happy together.” 

Selina’s warmth and well-wishes were not met with the smiles and offers of thanks that she expected. She saw at once she had made some grave mistake. Augusta had turned white as a sheet and was opening and closing her mouth as if suddenly robbed of her voice. The lady was blushing furiously, her eyes wide with shock. Only the gentleman looked pleased. His eyes crinkled with mirth, and she could see he was hiding a smile. 

“Mrs. Suckling,” he said, “I am very pleased to make your acquaintance, and I _would_ thank you for your great kindness, but I am afraid you have confused us with our friends, Miss Fairfax and Mr. Churchill.” He tilted his head pointedly at the dour young woman and her partner who had, after all, been dancing at the top of the set. 

Mrs. Suckling gasped at the realization, and she felt her cheeks go red. “So you are not…”

“Unlike our friends, there is no current reason to congratulate us, no,” the gentleman smiled at her with sympathy, "excepting perhaps my partner's excellent dancing." The lady looked up at him with an almost accusatory glare which Selina did not have time to interpret before her sister finally broke in.

“Selina! If you had let me continue, there would have been no confusion. This is Knightley and Miss Woodhouse! They are merely old friends! Knightley, I must apologize for my sister’s _grave_ error.”

Knightley solemnly nodded his acknowledgement. The lady Selina now knew to be Miss Woodhouse was tightly pursing her lips, her shoulders quivering, and Selina was unsure if she was holding back a fit of tears or giggles. 

“Indeed,” Selina entreated, “I am dreadfully sorry—mortified even! My dear Augusta always says that I am much too plain-spoken to be proper, and here I must admit that she is right. You made a lovely pair dancing, but I see now that when Augusta pointed you out to me, I must have mistaken you for your neighbors in the formation.” 

“Do not concern yourself,” Miss Woodhouse said, smiling warmly, “I am sure we will all look back on this introduction with great humor in the future. We are very pleased that you are here, Mrs. Suckling, as I am anxious to invite you to Hartfield, my father’s estate. I have heard that it is very like your own home, Maple Grove.” 

And with that, Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Knightley graciously let all awkwardness fall away. They chatted amiably for a few moments more until Mr. Elton returned to claim Mrs. Suckling for a dance, and Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Knightley left the floor.

\--

“Mr. Knightley, you must go dance with another lady,” Emma entreated her “old friend” from a quiet corner of the ballroom. “There is likely only one or two songs between now and the break for refreshment.”

“I do not wish to dance with another lady,” Mr. Knightley replied, frowning, “Indeed, I do not wish to dance at all, except in the case of a few special exceptions.” 

Emma’s eyes widened in frustration, and she chided him in a hushed voice, “You have danced with me twice this evening. If you do not dance with anyone else, more than just Mrs. Suckling will suppose we have a secret understanding.” 

“Hmm,” Mr. Knightley looked grave, but mirthful creases in the corner of his eyes betrayed him, “I’m not sure why anyone would suspect such a thing.”

Emma rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile as she whispered, “Perhaps they might suspect it since we _do_ , in fact, have a secret understanding.” 

He mock-gasped at this, and Emma bit her lip to hold back a laugh. This caused his gaze to shift downward to her mouth which in turn caused Emma to blush so profusely she had to look away to regain her composure. 

“Indeed,” she continued, not quite meeting his eyes, “It appears Mrs. Suckling noticed something between us almost immediately. We must lack Frank and Jane’s talent for deception. You must be sure to insult my hair or dress while among others.” 

“I certainly have no such gift, and no one would believe me if I found any fault with your person. I’m sure I’ve been looking at you with equal parts love, longing, and exasperation for many months now if not years. Perhaps our friends are so used to it, they are unable to notice the change. And after all, _you_ did not.” 

She smiled, but remained focused on adjusting the drape of her skirt. “ _You_ were very smooth in the way you replied to Mrs. Suckling’s mistake.” 

Mr. Knightley could see she was not exactly pleased how easily he had batted away suspicions of their engagement. She was also not pleased that there might _be_ suspicions of their engagement. But, he supposed, this kind of confounding complexity of thought was one of the reasons he loved her. 

“I have had a great deal of practice hiding my own emotions and wishes for the past few months, Emma. Until recently, half of Highbury—including you _,_ I might add, to my greatest distress—was asking if I was in love with Jane Fairfax! I am well used to denying a romantic connection to any of Surrey’s young ladies whether it is true or not.”

“Ah, see!” she cried, “You have proven my point. Despite your protests, you are not above suspicion, Mr. Knightley. Even you are liable to become the subject of a scandalous rumor.”

“Well that could be amusing, dear Emma, as I have not been the subject of any scandalous rumor since—” He examined the buttons of his coat. “Well, I have never been the subject of any scandalous rumor.” 

Emma gazed at him fondly, “You are too good, too noble. Who would imagine our Mr. Knightley having rakish liaisons in the strawberry patch at Donwell?” 

“Rakish liai _son_ —singular, if you please,” he corrected, not looking away from his buttons, but smiling wistfully at a _very_ particular memory. She continued to examine him evenly until he finally looked up at her.

“Very well, Emma, I shall find myself a partner for the next set—not for the sake of my own reputation which I’m sure would only be enhanced, but for yours.” 

“Mine?” 

“Mmm. Your last rumored beau was a good-looking young fellow taken with gallivanting about the countryside. What a come-down for you, Emma, to instead be reputedly attached to the county’s most boring old bachelor.” He grinned at her so she knew he was teasing. 

" _When_ we announce our intention to marry,” Emma replied archly, “I will be very proud to be publicly engaged to a man generally considered to be first in all good things—kind, wise, clever—if not a bit quizzical in his humor.” 

“You have forgotten devastatingly handsome—” 

Emma held up her hand to stop him. “I will not flatter your vanity, sir, as you never flatter mine! Let us not argue further. And besides, I have thought of a different motivation—beyond our respective reputations—for you to dance.”

The current set had ended, and others were beginning to crowd around them. He leaned down toward her so he could hear her continue. 

“Because you are so _very_ ancient,” she said softly, “You may be tired after a few more dances. Despite it resulting in a tete-a-tete, I do not think anyone would look askance if you were to accept a ride in your dear friends, the Woodhouse’s, carriage when such a fatiguing evening is over—rather than walking home?” 

He tilted his head ever so slightly to get a fuller view of her face, practically bringing them nearly nose to nose. Emma felt her breath hitch as his eyes took on a rather roguish gleam in the candlelight and, for the briefest of moments, she imagined he might kiss her then and there. 

Then, suddenly, he stepped back, and the moment was gone. He looked about the room. 

“Ah, it seems Mrs. Cox may be looking for a partner!” And, with a small smirk and a brief nod, he walked briskly away to volunteer himself.


	3. The News Must Spread Farther

> _The time was coming when the news must spread farther, and other persons' reception of it tried..._
> 
> _The news was universally a surprize wherever it spread; and Mr. Weston had his five minutes share of it; but five minutes were enough to familiarise the idea to his quickness of mind.—He saw the advantages of the match, and rejoiced in them with all the constancy of his wife; but the wonder of it was very soon nothing; and by the end of an hour he was not far from believing that he had always foreseen it._
> 
> _“It is to be a secret, I conclude,” said he. “These matters are always a secret, till it is found out that every body knows them. Only let me be told when I may speak out.—I wonder whether Jane has any suspicion.”_
> 
> _He went to Highbury the next morning, and satisfied himself on that point. He told her the news. Was not she like a daughter, his eldest daughter?—he must tell her; and Miss Bates being present, it passed, of course, to Mrs. Cole, Mrs. Perry, and Mrs. Elton, immediately afterwards. It was no more than the principals were prepared for; they had calculated from the time of its being known at Randalls, how soon it would be over Highbury; and were thinking of themselves, as the evening wonder in many a family circle, with great sagacity._
> 
> _—_ Emma _, Vol III, Chapter XVII_

A week later, just a few days before the end of the Sucklings’ visit, Mrs. Elton and her sister left the Vicarage to pay a visit to Mrs. Weston and her new daughter, Anna. Selina thought it might be early to visit a confined woman who was not a member of one’s family, but Augusta had declared, “Nonsense, Sister! I am the vicar’s wife. It is my duty to tend to my husband’s flock and bring my blessings.” 

As they walked through town toward Randalls, they came upon Miss Fairfax, Miss Bates, and Mrs. Cole. Miss Bates looked extremely animated as she spoke to Mrs. Cole whose mouth hung open in wonderment. Jane Fairfax, Selina observed, looked quietly pleased, and nodded happily when Mrs. Cole spoke to her. They could just hear their conversation as they drew closer. 

“It is too wonderful!” Mrs. Cole exclaimed, shaking her head, “I feel at once that I should have guessed, and yet I must admit, the thought never crossed my mind.” 

“Mr. Weston,” Miss Bates replied, “declares that he has seen this coming for some time. Certain _looks_ between them, he says. He is a very wise man—so perceptive—and so solicitous of Jane recently—I have no doubt with his good nature, he should have sensed it.” 

Augusta furrowed her brow and interrupted their close conversation, “Mr. Weston sensed what indeed, Miss Bates?” She turned to Mrs. Cole, “You must be discussing the particulars of the engagement between my dear Miss Fairfax—” she smiled indulgently at Jane—“And her Mr. Churchill. Too wonderful indeed! But surely Mr. Weston does not claim he foresaw it!”

Miss Fairfax smiled back at Mrs. Elton, but, Selina thought, her expression was a little sly as she looked up at Augusta from beneath her elegant brow. “Indeed, Mrs. Elton, I will always regret that Mr. Weston was surprised by my betrothal to his son, but he has been very kind since. However, he has just been to visit my aunt and myself and told us of other news—another engagement—that he professes to have guessed.” 

Augusta frowned deeply, “Whomever could you be speaking of?” 

Miss Bates practically burst out with the answer, smiling broadly, “Of Miss Woodhouse and Mr. Knightley! They informed the Westons of their betrothal yesterday evening, and though it is not known publicly, I am sure they do not mind that I have told a few friends of their joy. They did look quite cozy with one another at the assembly—Miss Woodhouse was wearing that beautiful comb—And—do you remember, Jane—you were both wearing a similar trim on your—” 

“Miss Woodhouse and… _Knightley?!”_ Augusta exclaimed with barely hidden disgust. She looked at Selina, appalled. To her sister’s distress, Selina smiled beatifically back, _I knew it!_

“Perhaps it is just a joke, Miss Bates,” Augusta protested, “You know Knightley is quite a humorist and Miss Woodhouse considers herself one as well. Perhaps Mr. Weston misunderstood one of their puzzling little jokes?”

“Oh no, indeed, Mrs. Elton. Mr. Weston told us the whole of it _—_ He even said Mr. Knightley took Miss Woodhouse’s hand as they made their announcement and that she was already blushing like a bride. I can see it in my mind _—_ just like the story books I used to read Jane!” Miss Bates replied, “So lovely to hear that such old friends could find happiness with one another. And they are so well-matched—”

“Indeed!” said Mrs. Cole jovially, “For she is wealthy, and he is landed. If he had a title they would see almost _too_ lucky.” 

“To be sure, Mrs. Cole,” Miss Bates replied, never one to contradict her friends directly, “But I meant in terms of temperament as well. Both so kind and clever—” 

“And both very apt to having their own way,” Augusta said, having sufficiently recovered from her shock and with a conspiratorial look to Miss Fairfax. “Indeed, it does seem like a very _convenient_ marriage for _her_ ,” she continued and there could be no mistaking her meaning. Selina was actually surprised by her sister’s incivility. Though she knew Miss Woodhouse had not always been kind to Augusta, the comment was in terribly bad taste. 

Miss Woodhouse’s defense rose from a surprising quarter. 

“You are quite right that they are both very independent-minded, Mrs. Elton,” Jane Fairfax spoke up loudly, “And that is why I am quite sure they must be very much in love. Emma—Miss Woodhouse—has always said that she would never marry, even when we were children! And of course, Mr. Knightley has always seemed perfectly content with his nieces and nephews and their visits to Donwell. Neither lack fortune or position. They have no reason to marry except for a sincere affection for one another.” 

Jane Fairfax’s monologue had stunned the rest of the women into silence. Jane herself seemed stunned too, as if suddenly realizing how long and forthrightly she had spoken. She concluded in her more usual tenor, “And I wish them very happy. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few letters to write,” and dashed back into the Bates’s cottage.

“Well.” Augusta indignantly snapped open her parasol. “Usually Mr. E. is consulted in matters such as these _before_ they take place. I had best return to the vicarage to inform him. Selina?” 

Selina had no wish to return to the vicarage to hear her sister and her husband bemoan the fate of “Poor Knightley” for hours on end. 

“I believe Mr. Suckling is out walking in the paths near the village, and I could use the fresh air, Augusta. Would you mind if I walked on in the hopes of joining him?” 

“As you wish,” Augusta finished curtly, “Miss Bates, Mrs. Cole.” And with that, she turned and rushed back in the direction of her home.

Selina wandered down the path that led to the Highbury and Randalls estates. She knew Mr. Suckling had become fond of the view of the wild fields between the two houses—so different from the terrain they were used to—and she hoped she might find him there. As she turned the corner, she came upon the couple so recently in question, Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse, walking toward her arm-in-arm. She expected them to spring apart, walking alone and unchaperoned as they were, but, after looking questioningly at one another, they seemed to wordlessly agree that any damage had already been done, and there was no use in pretending. They nodded to her in greeting.

“Miss Woodhouse, Mr. Knightley! I have heard your news from Miss Bates—although, I suppose in saying that, I now recall that the news was only meant to be known among close friends. But I am sure you are not surprised it is already known to any one who has been in town this morning.” 

Emma smiled and sighed. “We may have wished for the opportunity to tell everyone ourselves, in our own way, but we were quite aware that once Mr. Weston had been told, the whole village would know as well.” 

“I do not forget, Mrs. Suckling,” Mr. Knightley bowed to her, “that you were truly the first to congratulate us, and I apologize we were not able to thank you properly then. Let me thank you now for your well-wishes.” 

Selina cocked her head. “So you were engaged at the time? Or did I put the idea in your head?” 

Emma laughed. “I’m afraid we had already reached our understanding and were merely waiting for Anna Weston to safely greet the world before telling others, but you are welcome to take credit for our match if you wish Mrs. Suckling. You may have heard that I once fancied myself a renowned matchmaker—though I did very little—and so I could never fault you for claiming perhaps slightly more responsibility than you might have earned for our happiness.” 

“Then all my friends near Maple Grove shall hear of how I brought two people together through the power of suggestion!” Selina smiled.

Up the hill, beyond Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse, Selina spotted a very tall figure cross the path and turn in the direction of the vicarage. 

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Knightley, Miss Woodhouse, I believe I see Mr. Suckling making his way back toward my sister’s house, and I would like to intercept him. I’m afraid you must continue on unaccompanied. As the sister of your vicar and a recently married woman, I am compelled to advise you that my dear Augusta makes an excellent chaperon.” 

“I told Emma recently that I have never been the subject of a scandalous rumor,” Mr. Knightley replied, “She believes I am not capable of it, and so I suppose we must continue to court infamy and prove her wrong.”

Selina laughed heartily at this, said her goodbyes, and walked briskly to catch her long-legged husband. As she crested the hill, she turned back once more to see Mr. Knightley and Miss Woodhouse make their way across the fields together, gilded in the light of the late summer, and she recalled the letter Augusta had sent just a few weeks ago bemoaning Miss Woodhouse's most improper, solitary walks about the countryside. Her sister so often saw only part and missed the whole. Selina smiled to herself as she mused that Miss Woodhouse's walks were indeed, likely to have been most improper, as Augusta had said, but Selina would venture to guess they had not been lonely.

“Well,” Emma began as they turned toward Hartfield, taking a shortcut through the fields, “I suppose everyone knows by now, Mr. Knightley. Who do you suppose is most pleased? Or most surprised?” 

“I am sure Miss Bates is all happiness for us.” Mr. Knightley squinted into the distance thoughtfully. “And though Mrs. Suckling nearly discovered us, I am certain her sister did not. I’m not sure I want to imagine what the Eltons’ response will be.”

Emma rolled her eyes at the thought. “I am sure they will believe I always meant to ‘catch’ you if I could. And Mrs. Elton will likely find thousands of ways I am deficient as a bride.” 

“Nonetheless, we must continue to be civil with them, my love.” 

She flushed at the endearment. “Am I not always _civil_ , Mr. Knightley?” She batted her eyes innocently. He looked at her sidelong, but smiled. 

“Now that everyone does know, my Emma, there is no turning back, I’m afraid. I hope you are ready to become Mrs. Knightley.” 

Emma laughed. “Ah yes, the mysterious, ‘not-yet-in-being’ Mrs. George Knightley. And what does the position require? An encyclopedic understanding of farming equipment? Knowledge of at least three languages? The ability to play all of Mozart’s sonatas for the pianoforte?” 

“And those for the violin as well, preferably.” 

He took a long step over an irrigation ditch and turned back to help Emma across. She slipped on the crumbing edge, and as she started to fall backward, he caught her waist, pulling her into him. Emma was prepared to make a quip about his daring rescue when she noticed a hesitation—a worry behind his eyes—as he wrapped his arms more tightly around her.

She brought her hand up to his cheek. “I assure you, Mr. Knightley, I am most ready.” 

Mr. Knightley lowered his lips to hers and went about assuring her that she was in possession of all that he could ever require.


End file.
